The Silent Shadow's Gaze
by roguetk422
Summary: The Silent Shadow fights off an unknown assailant and flashes back to a moment from his childhood. Will probably continue this story if its well received. I'm new to the whole fan fiction thing so constructive criticism is welcome.
1. Chapter 1

He looked up.

His father stood over him with a worried face, and the boy could see all the rough contours lining up along his cheeks, blurring once in contact with the red war paint that crossed his face.

"Are you alright, Atasá:ta?" His father asked.

"Why are there tears in your eye, my son? Do you not understand that this is a sign of weakness?" His father continued. Ata hadn't even realized he was crying, he had totally forgotten where he was. He looked around and saw the sprawling forest, as well as the endless floor around him. He noticed dirt had been kicked up everywhere he sat, and soon realized that he had fallen.

It all soon came back to him as his father helped him up. They were practicing running through the trees, he had missed a step onto a branch and fallen, hitting his head on the way down. A roaring ache surged through his skull as he regained his footing. He put a hand up to his forehead and realized that he had a nasty cut where his head hit the tree. A trail of blood flowed slowly down his face.

"Do not be discouraged, my son. This will be the first of many falls. You will fall in the woods while we are training so that you will not fall on the ground when there is a templar blade at your throat" his father told him. He stifled back a tear in response to his father's words.

He looked up again

The sky was a shade of gray that he had never seen, or rather noticed. The perfect line between black and white hovered over everything he saw like a warning to him, to tell him that what he thought to be true was only a piece of what actually was. He looked back down to the man standing a few feet away. He noticed his body had conformed into his natural prowler stance and he remembered, or rather, was reminded of what was happening around him. The buildings cascaded around him like a circle of onlookers waiting for a deadly blow, and as the rain dripped off of them, the man who stood a few feet away came rushing forward with a knife in his hand.

Ata did what he had been trained to do, and his body moved in an exact flow of movements that corresponded to the man across from him like a choreographed dance. But the dance they performed wasn't a friendly one. It didn't bid good will to the participants or anyone watching. The man was close enough now to slash at Ata. Ata responded with flawless dodges, but then the man stabbed forward too fast for Ata to move. Ata instead grabbed the hand before it could sink the weapon into his chest, and twisted it as far as he could get it. The man was too well-trained to be phased by the move however, and quickly moved his hand away. Before he was a safe distance from Ata's reach, Ata grabbed the man's shoulders and shoved with all the strength he could muster. Using the diversion, Ata flicked his left wrist down to reveal a familiar blade, but no blade showed. He looked down in confusion to remember that the blade's mechanism had been badly damaged by the man just a few minutes before. Ata invoked a curse from the spirits upon both himself and the man, and reached for a more familiar weapon, the skinning knife he had owned since he was a boy.

Ata wasn't certain how effective it would be against the man clad in black across from him, but he had run out of options. The man had gotten back up, and the two now circled each other as they waited for each other to make the first move. The man in black pulled down his hood to reveal a pale complexion. The man's race didn't surprise Ata, the templars were known for their preference to Europeans. Ata sooned realized he was being given a sign of respect, so he pulled down his hood in a similar fashion. His hair had grown far beyond the tribal style he wore just a year ago. The man's face was still covered in cloth, but Ata could still see the concentration within the tense contortions of his profile. Both of the men were hunters, and while their respective allies may jeer and shout at their enemies, both of these men knew that a man must be silent to catch his prey, but who the prey was, was still meant to be seen.

The man in black suddenly burst forth in a barrage of attacks that Ata struggled to dodge and deflect. All at once he was too slow, and a wild swing of the knife put a deep gash into Ata's shoulder. Ata winced in pain, but he knew he couldn't let the man get the advantage. In less than a second that the man stopped to see his handiwork, Ata kicked his legs out from under him and the man in black fell along the cobblestone path face first. Ata quickly used the diversion to turn the man over and press the knife upon his neck, but before he could take the man's life he stopped.

"Wait… I know you"

End Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

Atasata was now standing in the middle of a large transition camp.

The Assassins had gathered their forces along with their smuggler and gang allies to join the french assault on a nearby fort. Keesogowasse was sitting down at a recently snuffed fire, taking in what little heat was left emanating from the glowing embers. Around him were some of the fellow tribesmen from the village back home, in the land the colonists had dubiously named New Brunswick. Ata had no idea what the original Brunswick was like, or what similarities the two lands shared that the new-comers would use it as namesake, but if it was anything like New Brunswick, it was a violent place where every man had to carve out a life for himself.

Ata knew all the men standing around the fire. They were closer to him than mere friends, they were his family. Keesogowasse couldn't claim all the credit for any great thing Atasata would go on to do, for the men around the camp fire had just as much a hand in turning Ata into a great warrior.

The men themselves were not assassins, only Keesogowasse held that title. But the village was the source of all support, and therefore these men had come with no other motive than to assist their brother in the completion of his mission. The others had been skeptical of the Assassin Brotherhood at first, but unlike many other groups brought over by the Europeans, the Assassins treated the natives as equals, which was enough to get their attention.

The Assassins then spent the next one hundred years assisting all native tribes they met and generally showing kindness towards them. It was only a matter of time before a native, especially one from a tribe so interconnected with the foreigners, became an assassin. The others from the village didn't approve of the decision at first, but when reminded of all their mercenary work for the French, it was decided that the gap between Red and White (as well as the other races of men) had already been crossed, and it was pointless to try and revert things back to the way they were.

Atasata didn't care for any controversy regarding his father's involvement in the Assassins. His father had raised him from birth to be an assassin, a privelege not granted to most, and Ata was always well aware of this fact. Despite his young age, he went through his training with a resolve stronger than most grown men show, and keesogowasse was eager to show him real combat in the field. It was safe to say that Ata was excited beyond measure, especially for the chance to kill one of the mythical templars his father constantly told tales of, specifically their antagonistic role in the great epic of human history where his father, and eventually him, were members of a select few that would defend human kind from the oppressive grip of tyrants.

The men who had agreed to assist Keesogowasse didn't know much about templar plots or assassin ideals, but they did know that the French were having a war with the British, and if the French lost it would mean being encroached upon by the English in the tribe's own homeland. This presented an easy case for Keesogowasse to convince the men to join them.

So they sat, waiting for the inevitable signal that they would move out to attack the fortress that was inhabited by a major British contingent, and supposedly a high-ranking templar. Ata didn't speak much English, but he heard a couple of key phrases being used over and over again, that rang in his head: Fort William Henry, and George Monro

A scout bearing the white uniform of a French soldier approached the group, motioning Keesogowasse to come toward him. He begrudingily complied and walked a few steps over to the man, where they exchanged a short conversation in French, almost too quiet to be audible. From the facial expressions worn by both men it was clear what they were discussing: It was time to move out. Keesogowasse snuffed what remained of the burning embers and called all the tribesmen to stand.

The group now walked along with a hundred other men, some native, some French military, and just a few assassins. As they walked, a call came from behind that caused the father and son to do an about face.

"Keesogowasse, you quiet bastard, I didn't recognize you five feet in front of my face!" said a man with a very thick accent that Ata did not recognize. Despite his son's confusion, Keesogowasse chuckled heartily at the sight of the man: It was obvious they were close friends, and it seemed they hadn't seen each other in a while.

This made sense when Ata pieced it together: Ata had been with Keesogowasse for the past few months, and he had never seen the man before in his life.

Once he came closer, the connection between them was obvious: The man bore a white hood, an infamous symbol of the assassin brotherhood. This continued to make the mysterious reunion more clear to Ata. He had seen Keesogowasse show politeness to certain white men, who had been allied to him, but he never opened up to them in the way he just did, and he generally showed a sort of distrust to them.

As they came together, the man extended his right hand and Keesogowasse grabbed it strongly, and then the two gave a quick embrace to formalize the reunion. Ata was dumbfounded at all the mannerisms he had never seen his father use before, it was obvious this man had earned his fathers respect to get him to so easily conduct the formalities that were typical of only Europeans.

"Liam, it has been months" Keesogowasse remarked.

"Yes, ever since this whole fiasco with the damned box and manuscript Achilles has had me running up and down the coast on search assignments, and then this damn war happens. I assume he's been doing similar to you?" Liam replied.

Ata knew just barely enough English to know that his father had not been doing similar things, but had instead been back in New Brusnwick, finishing Ata's basic training to prepare him for the field. Ata didn't know if Keesogowasse wished for that knowledge to be known, or if he even wanted Ata's existence to be known, so Ata kept quiet till the cue from his father that it was ok to join the conversation.

"More or less. I have spent much of my time with this boy" Keesogowasse pointed to Ata.

"Liam, this is my son, Ata:sata" Keesgowasse clarified.

"Huh, never thought of you as the type to have a son. I should have guessed as soon as I saw him, though. He looks just like you, minus the war paint, of course" Liam joked.

With this, Keesogowasse relaxed. The assassin brotherhood didn't take kindly to secrets, but Liam wasn't the assassin brotherhood, he was Liam, and he was wise enough to know that Keesogowasse had kept his son a secret for good reason, especially if it was a secret he carried for ten years.

"I'm glad he's here, because it's my turn for a big reveal, and I think his prescence will make you more sympathetic to an otherwise, well, unfavorable situation." Liam said.

Keesogowasse was confused by the statement, as evident by his faces contortions, till a young boy about the same age as Ata stepped forward next to Liam

"Is it ok to talk to them, Liam?" the boy asked.

"Yes, Joseph. These lads are our friends, our brothers, you could trust them with your life" replied Liam.

"Keesogowasse, this is my cousin, Joseph. His parents died from the flu about two years ago. About a year ago, he fell onto my hands. I mainly left him with what relatives I have left in Plymouth, but he's old enough now to start training, and I've decided I want to leave behind something to the brotherhood in case our line of work gets the better of me, you know, to give back for all they've given me. So a few months back I started working on the basics with him, and when Achilles sent me up here to take part in the siege I thought I'd show him a real fight" Liam said.

"I guess we've both been recruiting for the brotherhood, then" Keesogowasse replied.

Ata looked at the boy, and before he could catch himself, the boy looked back, and for a mere moment they locked eyes while their guardians talked. Ata was taken aback by the deep green color. Ata had really only ever seen brown eyes, or if he saw other colors they weren't noticeable.

Once they locked eyes, it was then that Ata was sent reeling back to the present, to 1777, where he was standing over the dark figure in a major colonial city that Ata had completely forgotten the name of.

"Wait, I know you" he had just finished saying.

"Well then at least you won't be killed by a total stranger" the figure replied in a low voice as he kicked Ata off of his chest and recovered to a standing position with flawless precision.

Ata's head was spinning trying to remember where he had seen this strange man's face before, but he didn't have much of an oppurtunity before the man made another lunge at him. Ata was still shell shocked from the whole episode, and the man tackled Ata with all the power of an angry horse.

When Ata's body hit the cobblestone path he felt a sharp pain. His back muscles were screaming to him, begging him to stop the needless torture, but there was no stopping in sight. Ata's objective was no longer to immediately kill the man, but he still had to neutralize him before Ata ended up being the lifeless one.

A second later, the man's body came crashing down on Ata's, and he felt the air in his lungs immediately escape like a frightened bystander. Ata struggled to catch his breath while fighting the man. He wasn't sure, but he thought he may have a collapsed lung. The fight instinct was dying down in Ata's body as the flight instinct kicked in.

One of Keesogowasse's most important lessons was to know when your abilities had failed you, and how to retreat while minimizing the damage any of your mistakes may have caused. Ata's pride had kept him from running from this battle so far, but logic wasn't far behind.

Ata had known when he saw the man that it would not be easy. He bore the weapons of a trained killer and the marks of one who had shed blood. A scar ran down his face that also told of his past experience. Ata had first thought he was a templar hitman. One of the few templars trained in the arts of death, which were utilized by the higher-ups in the order, but now Ata was having doubts.

In his desperation Ata head-butted the man, which sent his own head spinning. It was enough to get away, however. He quickly shuffled away to a point where he was out of the immediate clutches of the man.

"Listen to me, I have made a mistake, I do not believe we are enemies" Ata said.

"You should have said that before you tried to kill me" the man replied, running at Ata full speed. This time Ata was prepared and side-stepped at just the right moment to dodge the man's grasp.

"This fighting is senseless, please just hear me out" Ata pleaded.

"So you can stab me in the back? Try to prevent what's right? No, no, NO! I'm the only one fighting for justice in this city, and I will kill anyone who tries to prevent that!" The man then rushed forward, knife drawn, with all the strength he could muster, aiming to stab Ata in the center of the chest.

Ata was too slow to side-step, so he instead braced his arms upward, grabbing the man's raised arms as he attempted to shove his knife downward toward Ata. The two were now locked together, both gazing at the knife as they struggled against each other, with one hoping to deflect the strike, and the other attempting to sink the blade into his opponent's heart.

"I swear, I have made a mistake. I believed you to be a Templar knight, I thought killing you would get their attention" Ata explained.

"Ha, thought I was going to be an easy target? I'm sure you regret it now, and you'll definetly regret thinking I was a Templar dog!" And as the man replied he broke away from the grip and attempted an upward stab to the gut.

Ata had regained his senses and like a hunter, reacted instantaneously, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting around to his back where he now threathened to dislocate the man's elbow.

"If you don't desist now I will cause you pain that you have not imagined before" Ata threathened right into the man's ear

"You think I haven't broken an arm before? How inexperienced do you think I am?" He replied.

"I was not just talking about the arm" Ata retorted.

The man sighed, admitting defeat, and relaxed his muscles. Ata let go of his arm, and the two men faced each other, still not recovered from their intense enmity a moment before.

"Alright, then. You could've killed me right there and you didn't, so I assume you were being true when you said you had made a mistake in attacking me? The man asked.

"Yes, I thought you were a Templar, but that's obviously not true. Are you an enemy of the Templars?" Ata replied

"I would consider myself so, yes." The man answered.

"Then why don't you bear the insignia of an Assassin? You bear the markings of an experienced warrior and you find yourself an enemy of the Templars. You're a perfect math for a member of the Brotherhood" Ata said.

The man paused before speaking.

"You know what happened to the Brotherhood, don't you?" The man asked.

"Yes, we are not in a good position these days, but that doesn't answer the question. Many of us have been killed, certainly, but you stand here before me. It has been more than a decade since I've met someone who called themselves a slayer of Templars. Why are you not a brother in our order?"

The man pulled down the cloth covering the lower half of his face to reveal a terrible scar running from the right side of his chin to his upper left cheek.

"I was an assassin, but that life's behind me. Men who were allied with the Assassins were the ones who gave me the scar on my forehead, so I left. But Templars gave the scar that I was covering, so it's obvious whom I hate more." The man explained.

Ata cursed in his native tongue.

"Do you have a name that I can call you by?" Ata asked.

The man thought for a second, but decided that he would trust this stranger, as he had proven himself to be at the very least someone who could help him.

"My name. My name is Joe" Joe replied.


End file.
